


Discipline

by Katnerys



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm horrible, Mostly Canon Compliant, Torture, Violence, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9922817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katnerys/pseuds/Katnerys
Summary: “I do not enjoy having to resort to such barbaric measures”, Karpov says, “but you have left me no choice, солдат. When you refuse to cooperate, you will be punished."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why my evil brain came up with this, but it did so here you go. Some low-key borderline torture porn for you, with hugging at the end. Be warned there is some violence/blood but I tried to keep it PG-13, so it's not too gory.

He's naked and crouched on his knees, kept in position by the chains around his wrists that attach to the walls so he can't sink down any lower. Karpov steps in front of him, arms crossed behind his back and a harsh, disapproving glare trained at him.

“I do not enjoy having to resort to such barbaric measures”, he says, “but you have left me no choice, солдат. When you refuse to cooperate, you will be punished. You have brought this on yourself. You can cry and scream, if you wish to continue acting like a petulant child, but I can assure you we will not take pity on you. Is that understood?”

The Soldier swallows thickly.

“Is that understood?” Karpov growls.

“да”, the Soldier mutters.

“Good”, Karpov replies, “perhaps this will finally get through that thick skull of yours.”

He takes slow, methodical steps until he's out of the Soldier’s view. The Soldier turns his head as best he can to watch him as he makes his way over to the guard at the far end of the room. The guard hands him something, but the Soldier can't make out what it is before Karpov notices him looking and glares sternly at him. The Soldier quickly looks away.

“Let's hope this won't have to happen again.”

Karpov shuffles and a loud crack quickly gives way to a sickening slapping sound. Pain erupts across the Soldier’s back, and he jumps, letting out a half choked yelp. He hardly has time to process before Karpov is moving again and the process repeats itself. This time he fights the urge to make a sound. Weakness will only anger Karpov further. Another lash. Then another. The next one strikes him where there's already a wound open and he can't help but let out a groan.

“You did this to yourself”, Karpov scolds.

The Soldier squeezes his eyes shut and fights back the tears. Internally, he's grateful Karpov doesn't see his face at the moment. Another lash. He bites into his cheek to keep from crying out. Another lash. Another. On and On. Finally he can't stifle the sounds anymore and every time he's struck, he lets out a whimper.

The Soldier feels his legs shake beneath him. He wants nothing more than to curl up on the the floor, but the restraints keep him on his knees. He's lost count by now of how many lashings he’s received. On and on it goes, whip tearing at his already abused flesh.

After what feels like an eternity the pain mercifully stops. The Soldier doesn't move, terrified of another blow coming, but there's none. Karpov walks triumphantly over to him, releasing him from his restraints. As soon as he's free, he collapses to the floor, breaths shallow and quick.

“You see”, Karpov says, “disobedience will bring you nothing but pain. I thought you would've learned that by now, but clearly I was mistaken. Perhaps this will serve as a reminder in future when you want to disrespect your superiors”.

He turns to the guards then, gesturing to the Soldier and ordering, “get him cleaned up and put him back in his cell.”

The guards oblige, grabbing the Soldier by his arms and forcing him to his feet. When they march him down the hallway, his legs quiver and nausea curls in his guts. The open air sends pain searing through his tortured back and he can feel the blood oozing from his wounds. When they hand him over to the medic, he peers at the Soldier with disinterest, shoving him stomach down on the cold metal table.

“Hold still”, he says and the Soldier obliges.

The medic fetches some antiseptic and as soon as the stuff touches his wounds, the Soldier hisses in pain.

“Hold still”, the medic repeats sternly.

He works slowly to clean the injuries, and the whole time the Soldier is in agony, the chemicals stinging his already abused flesh. Several times the Soldier can't help but cry out. The medic ignores him. Once he’s satisfied that the Soldier won't bleed out of succumb to infection during the night, he has him sent back to his cell. The Soldier is, if anything, glad to finally be alone. He knows it's stupid, pathetic, but he can't help it when quiet sobs bubble from his throat and tears flow freely down his cheeks. He knows that he brought this on himself, knows disobedience is met with pain, but god it hurts. He spends a good portion of the night like that, lying on his stomach, back throbbing until he finally manages to cry himself to sleep.

\--

“Come on Buck”, Steve urges, “you can take your shirt off in front of me.”

Bucky grabs a hold of the bottom of his shirt, but hesitates.

“Whatever you got under there it can't be that bad”, Steve assures him.

Bucky doesn't believe that, but he doesn't feel like arguing about it anymore, so slowly he peels off his shirt and reveals his bare back. Steve doesn't speak for a second, but Bucky can feel him shifting, his hand hovering over the web of scars that run along his flesh. He knows they look a lot better than they once did, just faded lines marking his skin, but the point is that they’re there. Really, Bucky’s glad he can't easily see them, then he doesn't constantly have to be reminded of it the way he does with his arm.

“Jesus Buck”, Steve swallows, “can I…?”

“Yeah”, Bucky replies, “they don't hurt or anything.”

Steve traces a soft hand along the various marks and let’s out a shaky breath.

“I…”, he says, “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky shrugs. “It happened, but it's over now.”

He's suddenly feeling a little self conscious though, so he quickly pulls his shirt on again, concealing his scars once more. He turns to Steve then, who looks absolutely horrified. Steve doesn't move for a moment, but then he's wrapping his arms around Bucky, pulling him into an embrace.

“I'm sorry, Buck”, is all he can say, “I'm so, so sorry.”

“It's okay”, Bucky tells him, even though it's not. He still has nightmares about it sometimes, the horrible crack of the whip and the mind-numbing pain that follows. It's not a big deal really, just one more thing on the long list of horrors that will forever be tucked in the back of his mind. He can feel, hot, bitter tears threatening to break free and fights them back with all his strength.

_It's okay_ , he reminds himself, _it's over now_.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you weren't aware:
> 
> солдат=Soldat (Soldier)
> 
> да/Da=Yes


End file.
